October 4, 2007 Issue

It was a mean rotten and nasty thing to do and I was delighted to have thought of it. Allow me to explain…

Just like gazillions of others, I put my phone number on the do not call list — the one you have to sign up for every five years. When I moved, despite having paid a portability fee for my phone number, I had to get a new one. What a rip off, but that’s another column. With the new number, I dutifully registered again.

For the most part the list seems to be working. It doesn’t protect me from the police and firefighter funds and other non-profit organizations that slither underneath the rules, but most of the others take it seriously. However, one night as I was sitting down to dinner, my phone rang. It doesn’t matter that I was eating alone, or that my dinner consisted of a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich artfully placed on a TV tray where my book was propped up. It was my dinner, damnit!

There, on the other end of the phone, was some young woman eager to sell me dancing lessons. I listened for a few moments and said excitedly, “Hey you think I’ll be able to do all that in my wheelchair?” She audibly sucked in air and stammered she was very very sorry for having disturbed me and she would make sure my number was never called again and hung up. I chortled and guffawed for a little while, then ate my dinner.

The sad fact of the matter is phone solicitors are merely trying to make a living. Americans want everyone to work and this is one of the jobs open to those with few other marketable skills. We can’t have it both ways — complaining about those taking advantage of government programs — and dissing those who are trying to support themselves and others. The whole thing got me to thinking about bad jobs. There are lots of things I would never want to do, yet if it was choice between having a roof over my head and doing them, I might have an immediate attitude adjustment. Off the top of my head, I came up with the following list of avocations I would shun unless under duress.

Toll taker — the mind numbing boredom would not be worth the compensation, which I understand can be quite good in some places. Money notwithstanding, I would want to blow my brains out.

Grave Digger — OK, this is necessary every single day of the year, but how depressing and in areas where it gets really really cold, they still have to make a hole.

Server — this is a very hard job. First, I couldn’t stand on my feet for six to eight hours and I’m clumsy. You do the math on that one. And people can be so mean and unreasonably demanding. I’m almost always nice to servers, no matter what happens because I’m always thinking of their feet.

Factory line worker — see toll taker above.

Phone solicitor — you know they get called names and get minimum wage. The only good thing is they are likely sitting down while doing their jobs.

Motel or Condo Cleaner — don’t you just know people trash places they don’t own on the theory they are paying big bucks to rent the room, so they don’t have to do anything else? I bet the kitchens are a nightmare. Talk to some people who do this for a living for some real horror stories about what they find in some of these places. I treat hotel rooms like home. I don’t make the bed at home, so I certainly don’t in a hotel but I put the trash in the basket, hang up my towels, and flush the toilet, etc. Not everybody does. Yuck!

Sawdust sweeper at the circus — What and give up show business!

Janitor in a prison — no explanation needed.

Fish Gutter/Oyster Shucker — the smell alone would do me in.

Stand-in for the knife thrower’s target — it’s tough being the new guy.

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